In the early hours of the morning, often an hour or two before my alarm goes off, my mind wakes up. It’s not because of some natural biological clock kicking into gear to alert me that a new day is about to begin.
It’s some twisted way of my mind getting back at me for the years of abuse. It’s a disgruntled kick in the gut for the constant questioning and doubt. The vengeful need to heckle at myself for not giving myself a chance.
A chance to concede. A chance to accept. A chance to take a break.
God knows how much I lament any excuse for not being useful. For not being productive. For not continuously seeking to improve myself. Oh, the need to imbibe myself with knowledge.
I wish I was bragging but I’m not. This never ending quest to better myself leaves me in a loop of forever opening doors and never closing them.
I find myself looking for ways to escape the realities of what I thrust myself into. To lose myself in an abyss of apathy and free fall. How does it feel to not care?
But I’m trying. As long as I do, that’s all that matters.